Only Human
by OhLollyLollyLollyLollipop
Summary: This was his present to himself every year. Sitting on a bench, covered in snow and freezing cold, he had never been happier. He watched everyone around him walk with smiles on their faces, carefree and oblivious." Post-war, SS/HG, some abuse.
1. His Christmas

[A/N: Random idea that won't leave my head. It is finals though, so I can't promise regular updates until summer unless my mind decides that the story is more important than finals. Can't promise it's going to be happy at all, and it'll probably be relatively short. Definitely HG/SS though, which you could probably figure out from the first two chapters anyways. Chapters will get longer after the first two also, these are mostly character introduction. Enjoy!]

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Main story plot is mine, but the rest all still belongs to J.K. Rowling.

This was his present to himself every year. Sitting on a bench, covered in snow and freezing cold, he had never been happier. He watched everyone around him walk with smiles on their faces, carefree and oblivious. Did they know how close they'd come to death? Did they know that the man sitting amongst them right now could've been the one to kill them?

He shook his head, steering his thoughts back onto a more positive track. He had not killed them. He had saved them. Or at least, he had played a large part in their survival. It was Christmas, and Severus Snape was sitting alone on a bench amongst muggles, admiring the very fact that they were alive. Yes, much had changed since the war.

He'd played his part as a spy very carefully for far too long, and had more regrets than any other individual involved. He had been forced to kill Albus, his friend and tutor. He had endured more torture than anyone could possibly imagine. In the end, he'd been able to provide vital information to take down the Dark Lord himself.

He had led Harry to the final horcruxes after Albus's death, and even killed Nagini himself in the final battle. He had been certain he was going to die when the Dark Lord turned and glared directly at him. His gaze was piercing, as though every part of his body was on fire. Yet, that wretched girl jumped and pushed Severus down, breaking their eye contact. The impudence of children these days was remarkable, although he did suppose she'd saved his life.

Also, if she hadn't saved him, he couldn't have helped save Harry. In the final battle, Harry would not have been able to take down the Dark Lord if it weren't for Severus protecting Harry at all costs. Thanks to him, Harry had been able to concentrate entirely on the task he'd been destined to do. There had been casualties and loss, yet in the end, it was a joyous day for Severus Snape. He was free of his double life, and his name forever cleared. He was a war hero.

Years had passed, and he had remained a recluse. Yet every Christmas, he visited the muggle world and admired the lives that continued because of their efforts. He could've been a murderer, and somewhere along the way, he became a hero instead. As far as he was concerned, there was no better present than that reminder, year after year.


	2. Her Christmas

[A/N: Hermione's beginning. Chapter 3 starts their interaction.]

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Main story plot is mine, but the rest all still belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Lost. Lost and alone. She didn't know how she'd come to be this way. Wasn't it just a few years ago that she'd had everything together? That she'd been a hero? She'd risked her life and put everything she had into the battle. They'd won, and she'd been nearly uninjured. A few gashes here and there, yet nothing serious. She was full of joy when the battle ended.

However, the joy only lasted until she had a chance to glance around the battlefield. How had so many of their side died? It was unfair. There she was, barely injured, and she'd had little to no fighting expertise. How had someone as weak as her lived, while aurors and professors and much more skilled fighters died?

She felt as though she'd robbed them of their lives, and no one understood. After the war, she'd withdrawn from her friends. She spent most of her time training and furthering her education. She didn't know why she'd been spared, but she didn't want to waste the chance she'd been given.

Hermione Granger had always been a bookworm, but now she'd taken it to new lengths. The light was gone from her eyes, no longer shining with the thrill of life and love. Every day was a task, just another tedious 24 hours of life that should've belonged to someone else. She never thought she'd wish she wasn't alive, but in her darkest hours, her thoughts drifted to despondent plots.

She'd met a man named Daniel Herbert about a year after the war in her auror training. He was beautiful, charming, and patient. Not even a year later, they were married in a private ceremony. Less than a week after the wedding, he hit her for the first time. The last bits of hope that Hermione had left for her life were gone in the next years she spent living with that demon.

So here she was, on Christmas, alone in muggle London. She didn't know why she'd risked it, he'd be furious. She missed the thrill of Christmas… the joy and smiles. She wandered aimlessly, stopping by places such as her old house and the cemetery where her parents now rested. They hadn't lived through the war. Hadn't even made it to the final battle.

She continued walking, although she was quickly growing weary from lack of nourishment and her injuries. She knew she had to return soon and face him before his anger grew even further, but it was just so beautiful here. She looked up towards the sky, watching the snow fall towards her.

Smiling a tiny smile and allowing a tear to fall down her cheek, Hermione spun in a circle slowly. Spinning faster and faster, Hermione danced through the snow. Soon she was grinning and sobbing, falling to her knees. As her vision straightened, she saw a man in the distance sitting on a bench, watching her.

Before she could think anymore, she grew very dizzy and fell forward in an entirely ungraceful faint. Her last thought was of the never-ending cold, as she'd fallen into the snow. She didn't see the man rise from the bench and start towards her.


	3. His Dilemma

[A/N: So apparently my mind does find this story more appealing than studiyng for finals. Surprise, surprise! I intended for her to wake up in this chapter and begin their interaction, but then I began to like the idea of switching point of views each chapter. We'll see how it goes, but for now, this one goes back to Sevvie's. Hope y'all like it!]

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Main story plot is mine, but the rest all still belongs to J.K. Rowling.

The muggle woman in front of him seemed to radiate the very essence of Christmas. As he sat there on his bench watching her spin and dance through the snow, he couldn't help but smile. Her hair flew wildly through the air and her dress spun in wide circles. Though she was obviously a woman by her figure, she was emanating the spirit of a girl once more.

He'd watched so many couples and families pass by tonight, he'd been curious to see the woman appear in his line of vision alone. The only others he'd seen alone had generally been males, and had mostly appeared drunk. He assumed they'd been seeking comfort in the pubs instead of facing the thought of a Christmas alone. Yet, she was the first woman he'd seen alone out in the streets. Surely it couldn't be safe for her with all of the drunken, imbecilic men wandering about.

Then she'd begun her spinning dance, and all the worry had vanished from his mind. It was as though she was absorbing all the joy around her and swirling it into a snowy whirlwind. As she slowed and fell to her knees, he grew slightly concerned. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he watched as she froze there, locking eyes with him.

Promptly she fell forward, face-planting into a pile of snow. Standing, he walked briskly over to her. Suddenly her demeanor made so much more sense now. She must've been just as plastered as the males wandering around, having also spent Christmas alone in a pub. He'd just make sure she was alive and get her to the bench and then be on his way. It would be his way of showing his gratitude for her complete display of happiness that had brought him such a pure smile.

He reached her still form and stood, admiring the complete lack of grace she'd had in her fall. Arms and legs sprawled, face planted firmly in snow, it was quite an amusing sight. Smiling once more, Severus knelt down on one knee, propping himself up to turn her over. Cradling her head carefully and repositioning her limbs to cause the least discomfort, he rolled her onto her side.

He stopped mid-motion, his hands darting quickly back. This was no muggle woman, damn it. What was Hermione Granger doing here? One third of the golden trio, he'd carefully avoided her and the rest of them since the war had ended. He thoroughly enjoyed his solitude and had very small hopes that the children he'd fought to save would be able to forgive his past actions.

What to do now? He surely couldn't just leave her there. Although, it really was her fault if she chose to get miserably drunk in the middle of muggle London and pass out, wasn't it? This was quickly upsetting his Christmas. Groaning, he slid his hands under her small form, lifting her carefully and standing. He was alarmed at how little she weighed, but then again, he'd never lifted her before.

Walking back towards the bench, he placed her carefully down on it. Standing, he glanced down at her, ready to turn away. She really was very small, thinner than she'd been before. Her dress didn't seem very warm, and her jacket didn't seem to help much either. Would it be his fault if he left her here to catch a cold?

As he stood there contemplating, she shivered a bit and groaned, drawing one leg closer up towards her body. As her leg rose, her dress rose with it, exposing her legs and accentuating her curves. He stood there gaping, reprimanding himself for looking, and turned to walk away. Let the little fool catch her death! She should learn to wear warmer clothing!

He stopped in his steps as a new, terrible thought crossed his mind. What if he left her there and she were to become a victim to one of the drunken men he'd already noticed wandering about? Surely it wouldn't be his fault, but he also couldn't claim to have done anything to prevent it. Sighing, he turned back towards her and walked back to her side.

Leaning down, he went to slide his arms under her once more to lift her when he noticed something he hadn't seen before. When she'd slid her leg up, she'd revealed skin on her other leg that looked terribly bruised. Right above her knee, on the inside of her leg… What could be the cause for a bruise like that? Just what exactly had the Gryffindor Princess been up to?

Frowning, he lifted her into his arms and apparated to his small cottage. He placed her down delicately on the spare bed, spelling her clothes dry. He lived in a small cottage that was a good distance away from any other people, yet never minded because of how simple transportation was. The land was beautiful and the complete solitude simply added to the joy it brought him.

He had only his bedroom and one much smaller spare, and only one bathroom. There was a small living room with a fireplace and a kitchen right off the side. All of this was on the first floor, for all that was above them was a small loft. Here was where Severus kept all of his books in a sort of private library. He'd never brought anyone here, and the only person who knew where to owl him was Minerva. They'd kept a close correspondence after the war mostly out of his respect for her.

Walking into the kitchen, he began to prepare some chamomile tea. Climbing to the loft, he quickly grabbed the book he'd been reading and retired to the living room with his tea and book to wait for her awakening. Barely ten minutes into his reading, he heard a faint whimper coming from the direction of the bedroom. Feeling oddly like a nanny, he returned to her side and was slightly distressed at the sight of her.

She was sweating profusely, curled tightly in a ball, shaking wildly. Waving his wand over her, words formed mid-air with her diagnosis. The nightmare was obvious, and the hunger and dehydration seemed odd but not too out of place, but what was with those pain levels? Her pain levels were as though she were suffering from many unhealed injuries, which would only further her illness.

Waving his wand again, he scanned her for injuries. He grew more distressed as the list grew on and on; a cracked rib, a broken wrist, bruising on her leg where he'd seen, both arms, and her torso, and lacerations across her back. There was no way that the woman he'd seen dancing around in the snow with such joy was injured so intensely.

Placing a hand delicately on her shoulder, he attempted to wake her. When she didn't react, he shook her slightly and spoke insistently. "Granger, you have some explaining to do…" As her eyes snapped open, he was unprepared for the utter and complete deadness within them. She curled into a ball, snapping them shut, and resumed whimpering. He knew she was awake now, yet her entire posture suggested fear.

"Pray tell, just what exactly are you doing?" He sneered. This was ridiculous. This really was babysitting. He was going to spend his Christmas watching over someone who by all means should respect him, and yet still obviously feared him to absurd lengths. There seemed no need to be pleasant or polite to her any further.


	4. Her Dilemma

[A/N: First things first, I have to apologize for the delay. Finals were a bit time-consuming, of course. Then I had the stress of moving home (I attend school several states away from home), trying to unpack, and starting work again. I seem to finally be settled enough for the time being, though.

Secondly, I have to say that I'm a bit disappointed. I followed the traffic on this story with great excitement, watching the numbers climb higher than any of my other stories have. It reached over 1,500 hits and had approximately 700 visitors. Now I ask all of you… If 700 of you read this story, why were there only 7 reviews? Authors love to know what you think – how else will we know what we're doing right or wrong?

1 in every 100 readers taking the time to stop and say something is very disheartening. I'm really not the lecturing type or the begging type, I just had no idea what to make of this. If I'm doing something wrong, please let me know.

Many thanks to MrsHermioneSeverusSnape, lilo, diamond-helen, Southernswimmer, Loyd1989, and Dayd for reviewing. I can only hope that more people will join you all as the story continues. Thank you all for your encouragement!

Now that I've had my say, on with the story. ^.^ ]

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Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Main story plot is mine, but the rest all still belongs to J.K. Rowling. Oh how I wish it were mine.

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She didn't understand. She was warm and very nearly comfortable. She didn't know where she was and who was speaking, and she was even more fearful for her lack of knowledge. If there was anything Hermione Granger lacked, it was courage, not knowledge. This man sounded just as cruel as Daniel, and the lack of familiarity did not help her feel any more reassured.

She was curled into a ball, whimpering, when she heard his sneer. There was no way. That voice was so familiar, bringing back so many rushed memories. She could picture all the times he'd made her cry in their early years. All of his snide remarks about her intellect, her friends, even her teeth. She remembered standing up for him through the years as Harry and Ron suspected him, and the intense feeling of betrayal when he'd murdered Dumbledore. She'd put so much faith into him.

Then he'd approached Harry, nearly dead, and forced the bottle of memories into his hand before collapsing. Harry had left him there, unconscious, outside of Grimmauld Place while he proceeded upstairs. Gathering Hermione and Ron they'd poured the contents into Dumbledore's old pensieve that now resided within the study. After witnessing complete evidence of Severus Snape's loyalty and all that he'd done for the Order, Hermione herself had been the first to run out the door.

Flinging herself down by his side she'd immediately begun his care, not stopping until he was stable enough to move inside. She'd cared for him for nearly 2 months, brewing every potion she could come up with. In that time he'd resumed consciousness and began assisting Harry in his search for the horcruxes. He begged the boy to trust in him with his mission so that Severus could use his knowledge to help him, and eventually, Harry agreed.

Dumbledore had given Harry the knowledge of what the horcruxes were, and together Harry and Severus were able to figure out their locations. Even though Severus couldn't move from bed rest, his information was vital and his instructions flawless. Without his help, it could have taken Harry months longer. As it was, within just the near 2 months that Severus had stayed with them, Harry destroyed every horcrux except Nagini.

When Severus was stable enough, he'd left her care. He'd become a much more civil companion to all of them throughout the time period, and she'd been sad to see him leave. She reasoned that this was simply because of all of the new potions and techniques he'd been able to teach her while he was with them. It was a much more logical thought than the idea that she might have actually begun to enjoy his company. His sneer and snide remarks. The way his glares had softened and weren't frightful anymore, yet still made her spine tingle. No, all of that was absurd. She just loved to learn.

Yet none of that mattered right now, because somehow, that sneer was here in the room with her. She didn't know where she was or how she'd gotten there. When was the last time anyone had heard from him? Oh she was going to be in so much trouble when Daniel got a hold of her. How long had she been gone now? Too long. Well that was silly, she'd been gone too long the second she'd left.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, smooth and cold. This touch was entirely different than Daniel's hot and sweaty, calloused hands. The hand on her shoulder had a delicate touch to it; the touch of someone whose hands had handled many things with great care. There was not the familiar harshness that she was so used to in Daniel's hands. Willing herself to calm down and not show her fear, she slowly raised her head and met his eyes.

There was that glare of his that he just couldn't make fearful anymore. Oh, it was still intense, yet just not in the same way. Her eyes darted around her, taking note of her surroundings. Where was she? She was in a small bedroom and could see a living room with a fireplace blazing cozily through the hall door. She could only assume she was in his home. It was by far time for questions.

"Professor?" She spoke meekly, no longer the same bold girl she'd been.

"You have some explaining to do, Miss Granger," he repeated. "You're injured. How?" She stared at him blankly, trying not to betray the train of thoughts going through her mind. He must have done a diagnostic spell on her, as any good potions master would automatically do. What were her most recent injuries, and what excuse could she give for them? She was so used to her entire body hurting that she'd begun to ignore it.

"What injuries?" She responded quietly. Berating herself quickly for the absurdity of such a statement, she waited as calmly as she could for his response. Playing clueless was obviously not the best game with him, but she couldn't make an excuse without knowing what her injuries were either. Goodness what a situation she'd gotten herself into.

He recited her injuries in a monotone voice, "a cracked rib, a broken wrist, bruising on your leg, arms, and torso, and lacerations across your back." Shoot. She ran through the excuses in her head, but nothing came to mind that she wouldn't have automatically healed herself for.

"Professor, if it's quite all right with you, it's Christmas and I really should be getting home." Yes, perhaps she could just get herself away before he asked too many more questions.

"Granger, if it's quite all right with you, it's Christmas and I really shouldn't have to be babysitting you and treating your injuries. Now out with it you insufferable child. How did these injuries occur?" His retort was snappy and unpleasant, and she couldn't help but flinch slightly at his tone. Turning her broken eyes up to meet his gaze as steadily as she could, she tried the last idea she had; begging.

"Please, sir. I'll allow you to treat me if you insist and I won't be any trouble at all, but I really do have to be home soon. I should've been home already. I'll come back to be treated, I swear to Merlin, just let me return home for a day or two until things are sorted."

His eyes narrowed into a painfully familiar sight at the end of her speech, and she knew it was all over. She'd seen that stare many times, yet never directed at herself. Flipping her head down quickly and shutting her eyes, she tried to block him out. Again she felt his smooth touch as his fingers grasped her chin and firmly lifted it back upwards. Keeping her eyes clenched tightly, she realized she was shaking visibly.

"Granger, open your eyes and look at me. If you don't, you know I can make you. Don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be." His voice had lost a bit of the edge it normally kept, as though he had noticed how she was shaking. Her mind slowly processed his words and sorted through them, and her body made her decision for her before her thought process could catch up.

As her eyes opened slowly, she barely registered how close he was to her before the memories started flashing before her eyes. Severus Snape was going to figure out her every secret, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

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[A/N: It's very strange to try to rewrite details of the final battle, and I'm very concerned that I'll botch something up. Do let me know if you notice something is off! Hope you enjoyed that little update!]


	5. His Realization

[A/N: I've found that I enjoy Severus's point of view more and was excited to write this chapter. How will he react to what he sees inside her mind?]

Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. Main story plot is mine, but the rest all still belongs to J.K. Rowling. Oh how I wish it were mine.

He was thoroughly frustrated at her display of weakness. The Hermione Granger he'd known for so many years was anything but weak. And why on Earth would she beg to leave and remain injured? He couldn't comprehend her reasoning, and intended to figure out exactly what she meant.

Her attempts to hide her eyes from his sight were feeble and half-hearted, and although he was glad he didn't have to fight her, it only served to worry him more.

Where was her treasured Gryffindor spirit? As she opened her eyes and gave into him, he couldn't help but notice the total defeat within them.

Then he was lost inside the swirl of her mind, scrambling from memory to memory. Nonsensical clips, thoughts, and emotions that had him searching for more trying to make sense of it all.

She was in a muggle house, presumably hers, receiving her Hogwarts letter. Her hair overwhelmed the scene. He watched as she read anxiously, her parents hovering above her looking entirely too nervous about a piece of parchment.

Pain. So much pain.

It was her first year, and Harry and Ron were rescuing her from the troll. He watched his own figure limp through her memory, watching the young Hermione's eyes light with curiosity. Strange girl.

Fear. She was terrified.

The Yule Ball… she'd looked stunning. She'd caught every male's eye that night, including his unfortunately. She'd looked elegant and mature, different altogether from the sloppy, frivolous get-ups that the other children had on. His respect for her had grown further that night.

Lost. Confused.

There he was again, unconscious in front of Grimmauld Place. He watched as she launched herself down the stairs, tears streaming down her face and immediately began his care. Tch, she hadn't needed to make such a scene out of him. He was touched, yet glad he'd been unconscious for it.

Loneliness. That didn't make sense. How could she be lonely?

The final battle, her eyes focused on him once more. He'd been locked in the Dark Lord's gaze in immeasurable agony, and watching it from an outside point of view was quite strange indeed. She broke into a run, barely dodging numerous spells as she crossed the battlefield. Leaping, she pushed him to the ground and broke their eyesight. He'd been able to cast a quick healing spell on himself and leap to Harry's aid, who had taken his place battling the Dark Lord.

Despair. Granger had lost some of her hope for happily-ever-after, it seemed.

Her wedding day. He was unaware that she'd been married. She looked positively radiant as she walked down the isle towards… not the weasel? This man was handsome, yet his eyes shone with a sort of malicious intent that was all too familiar to Severus.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. What the hell, Granger?!

She was lying on the floor, crying as he kicked her. A look of extreme disbelief was on her face.

She was cowering in front of him as he screamed at her and slapped her across the face repeatedly. The tears flowing down her face made each hit sound stranger and louder as his hand made contact with her wet cheek.

She was running down a hallway trying to escape him, only to be caught and pushed down the stairs. She looked so broken, curled up at the bottom of the steps.

She was being tied down and assaulted. Her broken eyes stared hauntingly up at him.

The memories flashed endlessly of the pain she'd been through. Withdrawing from her mind in shock, he held firmly to her chin. Immediately she gasped as she felt the intrusion leave and tears began streaming down her face as she comprehended everything he'd seen.

"Granger, what have you done to your life?" He tried to question as gently as he could, yet he was still trying to process all that he'd seen. Where were her faithful lapdogs? Shouldn't they be protecting her?

He tried to place the last time that Harry and Ron had appeared in her memories, and couldn't remember anything more recent than the final battle. Had they missed her wedding as well? Scoundrels.

He watched as she gulped and clenched her eyes shut, trying to slow the tears. Her small hands slowly rose and grasped his hand lightly, tugging it away from her chin. Even her pull was more of a request than a demand, though. Everything was all wrong.

"Please, I need to get back. I've been gone far too long." He sat, bewildered, as she pleaded to return to somewhere and someone that only held pain for her.

"Are you that blind? You'd be going back to receive even more injuries." He'd have none of that.

"You don't understand. He loves me."

"Bullocks, Granger! Where has your sense of reason gone?" He was furious. Weren't her friends supposed to keep things like this from happening? This wasn't his responsibility. He should be quietly enjoying his Christmas right now, not babysitting Hermione Granger.

She fell silent, sitting back on the bed and dropping his hand. She was cowering, and it was pathetic. It was almost as though she feared him, which was just absurd. This Daniel guy was the only scum around worth fearing.

He tried to calm himself and gather his thoughts, trying to keep any anger from his face or voice. He was furious with her for leaving herself in such a situation, yet he knew that she'd interpret the anger entirely differently at this point. Granger would no longer see concern, just punishment.

Rising, he strode quickly from the room and into the kitchen. He kept a small store of potions here, yet it would be enough for now. He'd return to his lab only if necessary. He didn't want to leave her alone with only those memories.

Grabbing a few bottles, he returned to her side. Placing them on the bedside table, he sat down in his chair once more.

"Granger, you will remain here until you are fully healed. Once you are healed, it is your choice where you go, yet I will have to hope that you have the sense to take this opportunity to leave that wretched excuse for a man. This house is unplottable and entirely unknown. The only owl that knows the way is Minerva's."

She turned and stared directly at him, her gaze far more uncomfortable than he'd expected. He'd spoken without any choice in the matter, which was the way he saw it. Yet when she looked at him with those broken eyes, he wasn't sure what she'd be able to talk him into.

"…He can't get me here?" Well, that wasn't what he expected. Guess caving easily was a part of the new, submissive Granger.

"No, Granger, you're safe here."

"Safe…" She repeated his words slowly, and he laughed sadly and silently to himself. It was scary, really, how she could make it sound like such a novel concept. She should never have to worry about feeling safe, and here she'd forgotten what it was like entirely.

Standing, he handed her 2 of the bottles he'd brought with him. Her questioning eyes filled him with such momentary relief that he was surprised. He wasn't expecting to feel such reassurance that she still maintained some of her inquisitive nature.

"One replenishes your nutrients, since you are very weak from hunger and dehydration. At this point, I don't know how your stomach would handle food so we'll begin with the potion. The other is a calming draught, so I can begin to heal your wounds. When I've done enough, I have a dreamless sleep potion for you as well."

He watched as she absorbed all of this, paused for a moment, and then nodded cautiously at him. Thank Merlin, she was done throwing fits about him treating her. It was definitely time to get started on her injuries before she changed her mind.

Shaking his head, he began his work. It was going to be a long, dreary Christmas.


End file.
